


Minty

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, Sheith Big Meme 2019, canon compliant except for s8, paint and wine night!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It feels good to have the chance to use some nice brushes instead of the frayed ones he owns. The steps the over enthusiastic teacher gives are simple to follow as well. The minty wine is good, Lance was wrong. If anyone asks, he’d give them four out of five stars. Good review, thank you for your time, let’s wrap it up and go.“Keith.”“I said I liked it! I was nice!”-In which Keith and Shiro go to paint and wine night. For the Sheith Big Meme event





	Minty

**Author's Note:**

> For the Big Sheith Meme event, where writers and artists swapped roles out of their comfort zone. I haven't written in a long time, but I'm glad I did, it was.... hell- but fun lol. 
> 
> I was partnered with the wonderful Izzy and Hal, and they made some truly kick ass drawings! I couldn't have asked for more supportive and friendly folk to do this with ;u;

There are a lot of things Keith would do for Shiro. Save him from death continuously, support his committee plans, hold him at night after they’re woken up by nightmares… This venture out past the usual garrison grounds and into a hectic city center- renovated with new Altean-and-who-knows-what-else translated street signs- is fast becoming an exception.

A mini-speeder zips past him, knocking both him and Shiro up against a building wall. He scowls at the progressing exclamations from the busy street, but his priority will always be Shiro.

“You good? We don’t have to do this.” He starts, and Shiro laughs, his hands curling around Keith to guide them back onto the path.

“It’ll take more than a kid with high-tech wheels to stop this train.”

 

In front of them stands a bright storefront- a chunky banner with a bottle and paint brush next to a tall window showcasing rows of canvas paintings- each several degrees of skill difference from each other. There’s a clear view of a small gathering of people inside already, and Keith can’t comprehend the concept of people coming _early_ to a “class” like this. The bottles of alcohol lining the back counter look suspiciously like the ones from the market stall selling the weird minty space spirits. (Hunk claimed it tasted fine, and Lance had shook his head furiously from behind him, eyes bugging out.)

 

Shiro tugs at his hand, but Keith plants his feet. “Please tell me you didn’t pay for this.” he says.

 “I didn’t. You know, I’ve seen you drawing in your notes before. This isn’t much different.” Shiro lifts his brow.

‘-and they invited us because it’s important for the Black Paladin and the captain of the atlas to be seen supporting the growing community.”

Keith groans at the titles.

“-and it’ll be fun.” Shiro says, stepping into Keith’s space. “I really want this night to relax with you, baby. We deserve a break.”

Oh shit, Keith thinks, as Shiro pecks at his cheek.

“Do this for me, please?”

Quiznak-ing shit, Keith thinks.

 

——

“Hold your big brush lightly, and then spread it- just like that, yes! You guys are doing so good with these fills!”

The seats creak with every movement from the people next to them, and they move constantly. Keith isn’t certain there’s even a reason for this many people getting up to walk past them.

It’s a painting class, and the painting itself has blocks of shapes large enough to be seen even from the back of the room. Earlier, he had taken one look at it and then locked desperate eyes with Shiro. He got a smirk out of Shiro for his efforts, but his silent plea went unanswered. In any case, the instructor seems more concerned with keeping the students sitting in the front-- wearing bright expensive jewels and well-groomed feathers -- entertained and drunk, rather than guiding the class past the bare essentials.

The little table set up with dozens of wine bottles has been fast emptying up through the night. Comparatively, the fancy plate of finger foods next to it stays completely full. If it’s the wine, Keith puzzles, there should be more passed out bodies than ones trying to brush up against them to make small talk. There’s always just one quick question that one of them just _has_ to ask, and wow mister paladin sir I didn’t know you could paint!

Sensing his irritation, Shiro’s been generously fending off most of the conversation attempts, so Keith wants to give this place a fair chance.

 

It feels good to have the chance to use some nice brushes instead of the frayed ones he owns. The steps the over enthusiastic teacher gives are simple to follow as well. The minty wine is good, Lance was wrong. If anyone asks, he’d give them four out of five stars. Good review, thank you for your time, let’s wrap it up and go.

“Keith.”

“I said I liked it! I was nice!”

 

Shiro looks at him, judging his expression. He must decide it’s as good as he can hope for, and turns his attention to Keith’s canvas. Shiro lets out a gasp, quickly covered by his fist.

On Keith’s canvas is a gentle forest, billowing fiery clouds above it and rolling fields of grass below. A figure with white hair lays peacefully in the center of it all.

On the teacher’s canvas, a single tree and bubbly sun take up most of the space.

“Wow, Very uncanny similarities. Is that me?”

“It’s not done.” Keith ignore Shiro's disbelieving huff, trying to get a look at the other’s canvas. Unexpectedly, Shiro tilts it away before he can catch a glimpse.

“Wh- let me see!” He grins, always ready for a challenge. “Did you just do whatever the instructor said?”

“I-It’s not done.”

“C’mon, I bet it looks great-“

He leans further over, and Shiro jerks away again.

Keith looks up and gawks at the light pink on Shiro’s cheeks. He didn’t realize they weren’t playing.

The man he knows is reserved, sure, but not shy. The tight grip on that frame says otherwise- so Keith backs up. Slowly, the tension eases up, and Shiro nudges his foot against his.

“I promise I’ll show you. But I want it to… be a surprise. One you’ll like.”

 

The urge to inform Shiro that there’s nothing about Shiro he’d ever not love rises-- and then someone stops right in front of Keith, and there’s no escape from their attentions. As he answers her incomprehensible interest in his work, Shiro slowly reaches out to grab his glass of minty wine and chugs it down.

 

\--

The problem here, Shiro muses, isn’t that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. His goal has always been to make sure Keith has a good time tonight. He got them seats in the back of the room so no one could sneak up on them; He took Keith’s interests into consideration, however much he may grumble about it; He chose a place where they could go out casual- jeans, loose crewneck, the sexy red leather jacket Keith picked up somewhere….

 

Focus, Shiro.

The problem is that, he had every detail accounted for-- and Keith still manages to go one step further. And he knew-!

He knew going in that he was going to suck at this class, and that was fine cause then Keith and him could laugh about his lumpy clouds and call it a night. But then Keith painted _him_ into his work-- and it’s such a heartfelt beautiful piece. He knows words have never been a strong suit for Keith, but the honesty in each paint stroke sings out loud and clear.

How can Shiro offer him anything close to that when he had gone in expecting whatever he made to decorate the bottom of his closet?

On Shiro’s canvas, there is a streak of green and nothing else.

Not one to give up, He adds another line of paint. Squints at it, and decides he deserves another drink.

“How many of these have you had…?” Keither mutters.

There are several glasses surrounding them at this point, and at least one almost-empty wine bottle that Shiro charmed a worker into handing over to him while Keith was in the zone. The way he concentrates when he’s really focusing, the wrinkle he gets in his brow?

“You’re so cute.” Shiro sighs, and reaches out to clasp Keith’s shoulder. He misses and instead drapes himself across his shoulders. “And so strong,  and god, Keith, you do so much.”

“There’s no way this is strong enough to get you tipsy…”

 

Keith is warm, and his hair feels good through his fingers. He’s not that far gone, just really into the moment. The people that kept bothering them earlier have stopped hovering since he got handsy. Maybe he’ll be embarrassed about the way he’s acting later, but it’s been so long since they had any time together.

There’s an amused tremor going through Keith, like he can’t decide whether to shake Shiro off or melt into his arms. Shiro pats him on the head.

“S’okay. You having fun?” Shiro asks, concern flaring up.

Keith takes a moment to answer, and then reaches out to down his own glass of minty wine.

“Been through worse.” He licks his lips, and snuggles in. “Are you?”

Shiro nods. “Mm, you’re not mad?”

“What? No.”

 Keith wriggles around in his seat to look at him, but Shiro buries his face further in his neck. The people who were previously hovering, and then stopped, have advanced to actively scooting themselves away from them. He’s honestly impressed they haven’t bothered to just call them out- or maybe it’s an aspect of their culture, which means Shiro is being a huge ass. There must’ve been a brief about it somewhere, yet try as he might to remember, the haze in his mind can only process the feel of Keith, soft and relaxed.

They’re supposed to be there representing The Coalition though. His mission to make Keith have fun is just the cherry on top, and he’s already done a mediocre job so far. Hating the idea that he’s also being rude, Shiro considers untangling himself from Keith. As if sensing his self-doubt, Keith clamps a hand down on his arm.

“If the space-wine moms come back around because you let go, I will personally make sure all your black shirts are washed with bleach.”

“Well, that’s excessive.” He mumbles, but settles around Keith once more.

 

—

Ringing bells fill the air, and the instructor claps their hands.

“That’s the end of class then, folks! Before we clean up for the night,why don’t we bring up some of our work and see it all side by side. Anyone feel like sharing?”

Shiro shoots up cause uh hell yeah his boyfriend is such a good artist. Keith wrestles him down immediately.

“What are you _doing._ ” He hisses, his pretty eyes pinning him down.

“You should… should be more proud of your work. Everyone needs to see how good you are, Keith.” Stringing together the right words is slippery, but Shiro thinks he’s done a fair job of getting his meaning across from the quirk of Keith’s lips.

“I don’t need everyone else’s approval to be proud of my work.” he says, and his small smile turns into a scowl as he watches Shiro move very casually to the side.

It turns into a brief tussle as Shiro tries to grab Keith’s canvas to bring up, and Keith uses every limb he can to hold him down…. as subtle as he can. One of the feathered aliens near them makes a trilling noise anyways. The noise surprises Shiro, and in the moment of weakness, Keith pulls it out of his reach- a cheeky grin on his face- and then accidentally knocks Shiro’s painting onto the floor.

Rather, his canvas with only two strokes of paint.

Shiro picks it up, and gently puts it back in its spot. There’s no doubt Keith saw it, and there’s no point making a fuss about it now.

 

“I’m sorry.” Keith says, and Shiro’s head snaps up.

“No! No, don’t apologize- I should be saying that-“

“What? I’m the one who made your painting fall, why would you be sorry?”

“There’s nothing even on there, nothing to ruin. I haven’t been putting in the effort like you.”

Keith makes a face, and Shiro can’t help but to smile. He grabs his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I can’t make you anything special like that,” he nods his head at Keith’s gorgeous painting, “and then I drag you to this, uh…” The room is emptier now that the class is mostly over, but the instructor and a few students still hang about.

“This Very engaging and eye opening community gathering,” he says, and Keith snorts. “And that you may or may not even be enjoying yourself at.”

 Keith’s eyes flash, and he holds tight to Shiro.

“I’d follow you anywhere, you know that. Your art looks good to me because _you_ put down that paint. I _choose_ to be by your side no matter where it is. Even, uh, engaging community gatherings.”

“Keith, not at your expense...”

“What are you not understanding here- if you want to inhale paint fumes in a cramped room full of people throwing their money at a live party knockoff version of a bob Ross video, then so do I.” His cheeks are flaming at the end of his statement, and Shiro does his best to hold back his ‘aww.’

It’s time to come clean though.

“Listen. That makes me happy to hear, and I’ll admit we probably wouldn’t have thought to try this place if it weren’t for the invite. But I want to try every new thing with you--”

“And a very quaint piece of work it is, for a first try!” comments one of the bejeweled and befeathered aliens as they exit the room.

“Piss off, Tiffany.” snarls Keith in the quiet nearly-empty room.

The instructor gets tired of politely ignoring them and kicks them out of the building. The door slams shut, and for a moment they stare dumbly at each other. Shiro breaks first, and then their both shaking from laughter, barely holding onto their paintings. With no other plans for the evening, they stroll down the street.

 

It’s decidedly less busy, with only a few pedestrians making their way home now in the quiet evening. Something savory wafts their way, and they find themselves at a food truck. This part, Shiro’s confident he knows what to do— and he orders two burritos, packed with everything they got. He finds its better not to look into what “everything” means to the four armed and feathery chef behind the trucks window.

Keith claimed an empty spot on the curb, and Shiro plops down next to him.

“Your meal has arrived, Sir.”

Keith rolls his eyes but he unwraps his burrito with gusto, his gratitude apparent.

As they munch, laughter drifts over from a party closer to the truck. Someone’s playing tinny pop music from their phone. The grill and engine in the truck (there are wings and turbines though….a food spaceship) purr on with pride.

“Honestly,” Shiro starts, “They really only asked for one paladin to come- didn’t matter which.”

Keith groans, and Shiro chooses to blame it on the burrito being really good. There’s a perfect distribution of ingredients going on, including something satisfyingly crunchy. It pairs well with his introspection.

“Well, after that, I don’t think they’ll want to invite any of us again.”

“I figured. Hunk would’ve been great at this.” Keith says through a mouthful.

“....thank you for being here, anyway.” Shiro says, and Keith grunts in reply.

How one man can be so attractive even with food in his mouth, Shiro thinks. He wants this moment in every day of his life, crumbs scattered and all the gross chewing sounds in between.

 

There’s a shift in the air, and Keith swallows, then frowns.

“You did this on purpose so they’d stop asking you to do PR shit.”

“I _wanted_ to spend time with you.”  

“It was too hard for you to say ‘no’ and this was somehow the better plan?”

“Keith.”

Despite the teasing through the night, Shiro believes himself a lucky man. When they hang their paintings up side by side, the teasing evolves into mutual praise: Keith’s gentle rendering, partnered with Shiro’s piece of art.

* * *

 

Art by Hal


End file.
